


Where the Wild Things Are

by Jane St Clair (3jane)



Series: Where the Wild Things Are [1]
Category: X-Force (Comics), X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Angst, First Time, M/M, Party Games, Surprises, Telepathy, observation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-03-24
Updated: 2001-03-24
Packaged: 2018-01-20 18:46:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1521593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3jane/pseuds/Jane%20St%20Clair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The night Sam wore his birthday suit and made mischief of one kind and another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where the Wild Things Are

Nathan tries not to think too hard about it. He makes coffee in the kitchen without turning the lights on and considers working through the night, since he's shortly going to be too wired to sleep. Broods some, in spite of himself. 

He came back unexpectedly this evening. At the gate, the mass of late-adolescent lust being psychically broadcast from the mansion staggered him. Reinforced his shields and gave himself the necessary minutes to meditate back to calm, then went up. Came quietly to door, close enough to know that no one hostile was in the house, and then padded quietly around back to the pool.

His first thought, and it had to be a marker of his exhaustion, was that his cultural knowledge was still incomplete, and he was going to have to learn about the ritualized orgies of late 20th century culture. 

Except that all the participants were familiar, and they weren't actually copulating on the patio furniture, though the participants' fantasies of doing so kept assaulting his shields and clamouring at his body. He recognized X-Force and a large number of Emma Frost and Sean Cassidy's students, a few of the youngest residents of the Westchester mansion and one or two visitors. All of them engaged, under cover of night, in what appeared to be a combination of skinny-dipping and blind man's buff.

At the back of Nathan's mind, Stryfe guffawed. He wouldn't have bet that Stryfe knew enough contemporary American slang to find the word 'buff' that amusing.

In spite of the fantasies he was picking up, the whole thing seemed to be fairly innocent. Playful. Nice, maybe, that the kids could play like that, since they had to fight like adults. Got a flash of 'Berto's memory of the conversation that must have taken place before the senior X-Men vacated. Someone younger asking, young enough to be able to beg plausibly and therefore delegated by the others for that purpose.

*can we go out for the night*

*no*

*can we rent a movie*

*yes*

*can we order pizza*

*yes*

*can we get beer*

*no*

*can we wear our uniforms*

*yes*

*can we wear something other than our uniforms*

*yes*

*can we wear pajamas*

*you can go naked as long as the house is still standing when we get back* 

Triumph over the irritation of authority, somebody's suggestion that they should do just that. And eat ice cream and howl at the moon. Like eight-year-olds in wolf suits instead of warriors. Collective laughter, some interest, then more. Clothes flying.

Across the patio, he could just make out Theresa curled up in a deck chair with a long t-shirt on and Jimmy sitting beside her. Some unidentified body clinging to Sam's wrist, trying to pull him upright to join the revellers. Nathan was close enough, familiar enough with Sam's mind, to pick up Sam's mental blush while the others coaxed his soft shorts off and dragged him into the fray. Louder mental flashes of *ah can't believe ah'm doing this* and *mercy* followed. Some happiness. More than an edge of arousal, though Nathan couldn't tell whether it was focussed on anyone in particular.

And while he watched, whatever game they were playing changed into some bizarre form of tag. More hysteria, more laughter, some good manifestations of agility and balance as people darted around the wet deck. Then he felt Sam again, very clearly, and Nathan got to understand how exactly being 'it' was passed on. Flash of wet and warmth on Sam's collarbone, and a second's blankness before either of them understood that Sam had been licked. Then the quick blur while Sam turned and tried to see through the darkness who had done it.

No sign. So, hunting. Careful, very careful. Not everybody scattered in front of him, but it was perfectly clear what Marrow might do to him if he came too close armed with his tongue. Flash of a bone knife and Sam's very male understanding of the vulnerability his nakedness created.

Then. Then, what? Some sense of movement just behind his left shoulder, and Sam whirled and grabbed and laid his tongue on soft, very pale flesh. Pulled back and stared into Nate Grey's eyes. Spark. Release. And Nathan mentally withdrew, careful because he could only just picture Nate's fury if the boy decided he was being spied-on.

Another half-hour while Nathan was still and watched, and they were back to blind man's. Almost perfectly dark with the moon under clouds and the house blacked-out. Arms and bodies and kisses laid on whoever was currently caught. And, by chance or design (not Sam's design, he thinks, but a telepath can see without his eyes), Sam and Nate intersected again, kissed long and wet and childishly passionate. And there was light, suddenly, when the clouds broke and the moon became suddenly huge. Little start on Sam's part before he leaned in and kissed the boy again.

Even longer, this time. Sticky mouths from laughing pressing against each other, Sam stooping just slightly to make it easier. Bending his knee so that his thigh slid between Nate's and they were still kissing, ignoring the whistles of their audience.

Nathan couldn't imagine what Sam was thinking, to be doing this, but even at a distance he could sense Nate's wildness, and realized how strongly the jacked-up emotions of the group must be affecting him. Utterly pliant against Sam. Like begging. Like widening his legs around Sam's pressing thigh and just *welcoming* every touch, every scrape up his naked spine, every flash of desire from the people watching him.

Until suddenly Sam just hooked his arms down and *lifted* Nate up to meet his mouth and the half-thrusts of his hips. Balanced there in a tribute to Nate's telekinesis and Sam's wiry strength, kissing madly and grinding together.

A little discomfort in their audience as well as the laughter and appreciation by then. A couple of people weren't sure whether it was serious, a few were starting to wish they were somewhere else. More were fascinated enough to watch without questioning. Jimmy's hand on Theresa's arm to keep her where she was sitting.

While Sam boosted Nate higher, and the boy's (not a boy, not really a boy at all, still slender and pale but fierce and male and powerful and manifestly adult) legs wrapped around his waist. And they *fucked* like that. Dry-humped, rubbed up, kissed and ground and made what looked like desperate, passionate, upright love to each other. And afterward sank to Sam's knees and down onto the pool deck's paving stones, panting and tangled in each other. Kissing and stroking each other's faces, softly.

Like the built-up sexual energy had released. The others drifted loose. Collected their clothes from the shadows and padded off, talking softly. Careful of Nate curled up on top of Sam. A few people stopped and brushed touches against Nate's back, though he didn't seem to notice.

The two of them kissed softly, again, and then Nathan could feel the psychic radiance of Nate opening a mental link. Something he wanted to scream against. But neither of them was old enough to know that you shouldn't know what your lover's thinking. Ever. Things below the surface that damage.

And yet for the first seconds after that, they kept kissing. Glow between them. Sam's lips moved, just faintly, against Nate's cheek, forming some soft-syllabled endearment that left Nathan thinking he should really leave them to this, let them bond and make love again if they wanted to.

Except that this *flare* of rage hit him, enormously loud on the astral plane, and Nate sat up. Stared down from his posture straddling Sam with a horribly young expression half-visible on his face. Equal parts shock and hurt, telepathically radiating something close to nausea.

"Nate," he said. Just a whisper. Something that could almost be tears under it. Unfair, cruel to both of them.

Sam said, "What?"

"I'm Nate. Nate Grey. Not."

Nate got up without putting a hand to the ground and levitated three or four inches above the ground. Just enough to put him eye-to-eye with Sam, if Sam had been standing instead of just barely pushed up from a sprawl and staring up in something like confused shock.

A dream-image flashed between them. Of Sam wrapped around a body almost but not quite like Nate's. Bigger, older. Scarred and cybernetic. To which Sam had whispered *Nathan* in Nate's ear.

Flonq him for a bastard in hell, but he left, then. Went back around to the front of the house and went in that way, ignoring the half- dressed bodies wandering off to bed. Went into the kitchen and found the bag of imported, caffeinated beans that Jean hid behind the bags of dry staples. Ground them with both hands on the little grinder. Cursed softly to himself for a long time and tried to think about nothing so he wouldn't wonder whether the situation was something he'd created.

He's still trying not to think too much about it. Because in spite of all Askani teaching, the *why* of the situation is manifestly important, and he doesn't know what it is yet. Only that Sam's still out on the patio beyond the kitchen windows, and he's miserable. Curled up with his naked back a moonlit arch. Crying, Nathan thinks.

While he drinks his coffee, he tries to think of some way to reconstruct this situation. Peace for Sam and. Well, *something* for Nate Grey. Carefully doesn't think about Sam's apparent desire for him, and what it means. Waits for the man he raised to pick himself up off the concrete before guilt carves one of them open and makes the rest of it impossible.

End.


End file.
